Seriously, She's Fine. Ariana And The Rose Talks Breakups, Bad Dates, And The Comedy In Dating
- Josh Kitchen
- Oct 10
- 8 min read
By: Josh Kitchen / October 10, 2025
“Everything’s perfectly all right now. We’re fine. We’re all fine here now, thank you. How are you?” Han Solo delivers this line in Star Wars after a mishap while he and Luke are undercover in the Death Star. Harrison Ford was a master improviser, and it’s that kind of spontaneous charm that set him apart from so many of his peers. I couldn’t help but think of that line while listening to Ariana And The Rose’s new, hilariously self-aware album The Breakup Variety Hour—specifically on the infectious dance track “I’m Fine.” When she’s not making you laugh with lines like, “The itsy bitsy spider went up the waterspout / Down came the rain and jammed that bitch right out / And I will not be that itsy bitsy bitch anymore. Ever. Again. I digress,” she’s turning vulnerability into empowerment, humor into catharsis.
Coming from a similar place of improv prowess and quick-witted honesty, Ariana DiLorenzo has been crafting great pop for the better part of a decade. But during the pandemic—when she and the rest of the world’s millennials were holed up in their apartments—DiLorenzo found her niche: making brutally honest, often embarrassing yet hilarious TikToks about the realities of modern dating. Those moments of relatable vulnerability and comedic timing became her signature, and now, her latest album channels that same energy into a full-blown performance piece about heartbreak, humor, and self-awareness. Complete with sharp one-liners, monologues, and unbelievable—yet totally believable—stories about dates gone wrong, The Breakup Variety Hour is as much a confessional as it is a comedy special.
I caught up with DiLorenzo to talk about why the brutally honest tales of dating feel so universal, how The Breakup Variety Hour evolved from a TikTok series into a live show and now a full-length album, and how comedic legends like Carol Burnett and Bette Midler shaped her approach to storytelling, stagecraft, and self-expression.
I've been in a relationship for almost twenty years, so before I listened to The Breakup Variety Hour, I wondered if I could relate to the songs, but I found myself laughing, agreeing, and thinking ok, a lot of people are going to feel seen listening to this.
I’m glad you said that, because I feel like it’s for everybody. It’s not just for people going through romantic breakups — any kind of heartbreak applies. You can be in a long-term partnership and still experience loss, disappointment, or grief. It’s really a how-to guide for all kinds of heartbreak, not just the romantic kind.
It’s so fun because of that element — but you also bring such a great sense of humor into something deeply relatable. Before the pandemic, you were putting out great pop music, but not quite with this self-aware humor. Then you started your piano chats on TikTok, and you kind of found this new voice. Talk to me about that.
I think I actually shifted into more of myself. Before, I had sort of encased myself in this galactic, otherworldly persona — I was inspired by space, stars, galaxies. It made me feel larger than life. But when COVID hit, I was suddenly very earthbound, trapped in my house with my thoughts.
I had an album (The Lonely Hearts Club) that I couldn’t tour, and as an independent artist, TikTok became the only way to promote it. A friend told me, “Make things you enjoy making, because if it goes well, you’ll have to make a lot of it.” So I thought about what I loved — and realized my favorite part of a concert is the vamping between songs, when artists tell stories.
So I just started doing that: telling the stories behind songs without the songs. I’d talk over piano music, very cinematic, and it immediately resonated. It started as just my thoughts, then suddenly millions of people were listening. That blew my mind. But I realized that sharing my personal experiences in a universal way — especially from the lens of women, queer folks, and people who’ve made those spaces home — connected with people deeply.
What sets you apart is how you share from real experience — but you’re also fucking funny. These are funny stories with great timing and bits but you're also talking about painful, embarrassing things.
I love taking that on. My friends have always said I never shy away from difficult conversations — I’m Italian, I grew up in New York, so we’re basically moths to a flame for conflict and honesty. I was a child actor before I turned to music, and I think I was always looking for a more holistic kind of performance. This project lets me put humor, storytelling, and music all together. It was a challenge to weave humor into the music — that was the last step. With my last record, people would see my funny piano chats and then hear a serious pop song, and it felt like a jump. So I reverse-engineered this new album. I thought, How do I take what’s resonating and make it musical? I knew I wanted it to be a one-woman show — inspired by Cher, Bette Midler, Barbra Streisand — that mix of pop, comedy, and theater. They were doing it all in the ’60s and ’70s, and I wanted to bring that spirit back.
It feels like a return to a lost medium — like the Carol Burnett era, where comedy, storytelling, and music lived together. It works as an album you can listen to, but also as theater. It’s really hard to make music that’s both funny and good. I think of people like "Weird Al", The Lonely Island, and Rachel Bloom.
Rachel [Bloom]'s Death, Let Me Do My Show was a huge inspiration. I wanted to make something that could stand as pop music and as comedy.
You mentioned that The Breakup Variety Hour started as a very personal story, but became something broader. How did that evolution happen?
At first, it was just for me — I was processing a breakup. The earliest version of the show had 15 songs, and a completely different first half. It was a mess (laughs). But once I started performing it live, I realized I didn’t want people to think about me — I wanted them to think about themselves. That became my benchmark for success. After shows, people would come up and say, “I’m at step three,” or “This made me think about losing my job,” or “My friendship ended and this helped.” That’s what it’s about. Once I had the live show built, I went back and reshaped the record to match it. It was an intense, back-and-forth creative loop — writing music, staging the show, rewriting songs, revising the show — but it made the final version so much stronger.
You can tell it’s a labor of love. It’s such a relatable record, even for people not going through breakups. One of my favorite bits is a story where you go on a date with the guy who sets his kitchen on fire trying to cook. a romantic dinner for you - a frozen pizza.
That’s a true story! The fire department actually came! He was more worried about his apartment than me, though (laughs). But yeah, I think the difference between how people experience the same situation can be wild. And dating — it’s a minefield. My real take is that everyone could use a little more empathy. It’s so vulnerable to put yourself out there with a stranger. I want my stories, even the silly ones, to make people feel less alone in that vulnerability.
Have you always been funny?
(Laughs) I actually asked one of my best friends that recently! She said, “No — you weren’t this funny. You used to take yourself really seriously.” And she’s right. I think my twenties knocked me around, and humor became my coping mechanism. My dad’s a great storyteller, my friends are hilarious — we’ve all gotten funnier as we’ve gotten older. The humor’s darker now, but that’s life. I think therapy helped, too. Humor sits at the intersection of honesty, universality, and self-awareness. And therapy gives you all three — even if my therapist didn’t always appreciate me testing my material on her.
It’s okay to be selfish in your twenties. You’re figuring it out, protecting yourself, trying to survive.
Exactly. Around 30, I started asking bigger questions — what does fulfillment actually look like? Some things went the way I wanted, a lot didn’t. But heartbreak, loss, disappointment — they made me funnier, and more compassionate.
You have great bits on your socials - a one liner that got me was, “Men don’t get lost at sea anymore.” And you know what? That is so true.
Thank you! (laughs) It’s true though — we’re too accessible now. People used to wait months for letters from loved ones, and now if someone doesn’t text you back in ten hours you’re spiraling. I think that post came from that frustration — like, where’s the mystery? Someone online said, “Men used to go off to war, now they’re DJs,” and I was like, Exactly!
Tell me about the live show. You’re bringing it to L.A. at El Cid in November — how will it translate on tour?
The show is very interactive — no two are the same. Everyone gets a card on their seat to write down their worst date stories, which I read anonymously during the show. They’re always insane — some are sweet, some are total chaos. This time around, I’m doing it all solo. I’m triggering all the loops and cues on stage myself, which adds to the one-woman-show vibe. At first I didn’t want people to see the “seams,” but audiences love it — it’s part of the humor.
We’ll have a slicker version at Joe’s Pub for the album release, and a more spontaneous version for the tour. That one lets me play with the crowd more.
Have you toured like this before?
Not at this scale. I’m doing 14 U.S. and Canadian dates, and I’ll be playing London in January. I toured my last record a year after release because venues were still backed up post-COVID, but this time it’s a full run. I’m hitting some cities for the first time — Salt Lake City, Austin, all over.
I imagine you’ll hear some pretty different dating stories depending on the city.
Oh, definitely. I started the “worst date” segment on my last tour, and it’s so fun seeing how it changes by city. At the Orlando Fringe Festival, for example, people got wild. Some stories were like, “Wait, are you okay?” Others were pure chaos. Every city has its own flavor — in Chicago, someone mentioned a local neighborhood and the audience lost it. I had to stop and ask for context! It’s so fun, though. Every audience feels like its own community.
If you had told me before COVID that I’d be doing a pop-comedy-cabaret-theater show, I’d have thought, “She sounds cool — and terrifying.” But it feels like the most authentic version of me yet. My friends say the same thing — that whether you see me on stage or at dinner, you’re getting the same person. It’s vulnerable, but that’s the goal — if I can be vulnerable on stage, hopefully it lets people be vulnerable with themselves too.
Listen to The Breakup Variety Hour now and catch Ariana And The Rose on tour in your city!
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